


There's a Reason Alastor Doesn't Touch The Wings, After All

by NaraGal95



Series: Only One Of Us Needs To Fall That Hard [3]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Al is not as touch-repulsed, Alternate Universe, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Fluff, I'm not sure how to tag this one, M/M, Mild Language, Must be an angel's influence, Prepared to be embarrassed, So sweet cavities WILL happen, Soft Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Sweet/Hot, There are somethings you just don't do again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:46:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24133792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaraGal95/pseuds/NaraGal95
Summary: There is a reason the Radio Demon always tried his best to not touch Anthony’s wings. The reason came from one of their meetings, not long after Anthony’s first promotion. Needless to say, I think both of them were grateful that he never touched them again.Otherwise known as an angel’s most sensitive part of their bodies is, and will always be, their wings.Alastor learned a lesson that day that truly flustered him.Anthony had never been so embarrassed before in all of his existence.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Only One Of Us Needs To Fall That Hard [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1738963
Comments: 7
Kudos: 232





	There's a Reason Alastor Doesn't Touch The Wings, After All

**Author's Note:**

> As the summary says, this takes place a little while after Anthony's first promotion/roof encounter scene in part 1 of this series. Probably a couple years after that.

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The Radio Demon received a knock on his balcony doors, the smile instantly growing on his face. Without much hesitating, the demon walks over and opens both of doors of the balcony wide open to reveal the angel Anthony, those pure white wings tucked behind him already, sword in hand, dripping with demon’s blood. “Welcome, Anthony!” The demon greeted, eyeing the sword. “You used the sword this time?”

“Hey, Alastor.” The angel greeted back, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “Yeah I had to. A demon snuck up behind me. It was easier to just swing the sword than aim an’ shoot.” It was well known by the demon that the angel preferred to use his two twin pistols than his sword. It was simply preference. Though the sword was quite something, it was always messy and took a lot of energy for the angel but when he was given the choice between the spear or the sword as secondary weapon he just had to pick the sword. Most of his brethren preferred the spears as they kept more distance between them and their enemies and while Anthony had to agree that was probably the better choice, the sword is simply cooler. “Do ya have anythin’ I can clean this off?” The angel asks, raising the blade in the air a touch higher. “I’d hate to spill blood in your house.”

The demon’s smile, though already wide, shifted into an almost humorous and content one. Though the other being was in fact an angel, sometimes the other was far too king and polite, almost laughable and stereotypical. Well… more stereotypical than the murderous angels that came flying into Hell once a year not caring if they killed children, anyways. But the Radio Demon found that kindness and polite manner endearing. Though yes, he did think of it as a weakness in regards to demons, angels or even humans, he can’t deny how it in Anthony’s case it was quite pleasant. In fact, one of the reasons he constantly harassed the other on his “general lack of politeness” when they first were getting to know each other was because Alastor _knew_ the other was polite. It was seemingly engrained in the other’s biology the demon was convinced. “Of, course dear!” The demon responded. “Though, I don’t mind. There’s a room in my station that is constantly—“

“ _Ah_!” The angel sounded raising his other hand in a cease and desist motion. “I don’t wanna hear it, no offense. I bet there’s all kinds of rooms in here I don’t wanna know about.”

“Fair enough.” The demon responded, smirk wide as he went to the bar and grabbed a fairly decent sized towel. “Shall I wet the towel with water or no?” He asked the angel from the bar.

“Ah…” The sound came from the balcony and Alastor could see the cogs turning in his head even from inside. “No, if ya don’t mind. I’m not sure if Hell’s water would affect my sword…” He added, his voice truly sounding pensive. Alastor said nothing as he went back to the doors, handing the towel over the threshold of his home to the angel. “Thank ya.” Anthony said as he began to wipe the blade down, the blood coming off with ease.

Must have been fresh.

“Did you just kill that demon by chance?”

“Last one I got before headin’ over here.” Anthony absentmindedly stated. “I really wished he hadn’t attacked though… I was already far over my quota…”

The voice sounded disappointed and Alastor inhaled through his nose softly. That was another feature from the angel he respected. Many would expect that Alastor wouldn’t mind the endless killing and slaughter of angels and demons alike, and some part of that was true, but even when he was alive and off killing people to consume them he would always pick targets carefully. He would try to keep his killing reduced enough to never draw suspicion to himself. A part of him respected that Anthony was at least conscious in how many souls he took ever year. A part of him also hoped the angel would stop keeping count. Every time he went over, by whatever reason, the angel would always be dejected, fearing that because of him their yearly quota would exceed.

Anthony had explained to Alastor that though Heaven does get a certain number to exterminate every year, Heaven also didn’t really monitor the kills that seriously. The exterminations were more of a time based event in which the goal was to try to reach the required quota as quickly as possible to then fit in more kills in the allotted times. More often than not the exterminations would end with the angels over exceeding their quota by far more than necessary.

Which is why Anthony tries to immediately pull back when he’s done with his required number. Though, he also explained to Alastor that it was usually angels that killed more that got promoted faster and though, yes, Anthony did want to become a Principality as quickly as he could, he was not going to do it at the costs of more lives than necessary on his hands.

Again, admirable to the demon but at the same time so very idiotic, such a naïve way of thinking.

“All done.” Anthony stated, taking a glance over his sword for any missing spots. “Thank ya again.” He said as he set the sword back in its holster on his back.

“Not a problem at all!” The Radio Demon responded, extending a hand out for the towel. “I’ll take that, you can come in and make yourself at home.”

Anthony handed the towel over and entered wordlessly, watching as the demon disappeared from the living room down a hallway. The angel sighed and sat at his usual stool at the bar, the one on the left. “I suppose I’ll check in on the battalion…” He mused to himself, raising his right hand before him, eyes glowing gold as a glowing orb appeared under his hand, the images of Hell from above fading into view. As his eyes returned to normal Anthony blinked and focused on the orb, using his hand to swipe in the directions he wanted the image to move towards. Oversight was quite the useful spell but it had its restrictions. Well, to him anyway. As a low ranking angel still he didn’t have the power to view in on Earth, that would happen when he becomes a Principality, and he could only really see in areas where he was already in, like Hell or Heaven. The limited range, though being slightly crippling, was at least helpful enough when he did come down to Hell so that he could spend whatever time he could with his demonic friend.

The demon reentered the room then, eyeing as the angel monitored his troops, raising his left hand and twirling it around quickly a clipboard with a pen appeared, a list of the names of angels in his battalion on multiple pages, the number of their kills magically being counted on the pages. “Oh, for Christ’s sake.” The demon heard the angel grumble as his right hand quickly moved, zoning in on a particular executioner angel. Holding two fingers onto the orb Anthony leaned in, yelling into the orb. “Michal 10875, you’ve exceeded your quota, I command you to stop an’ return to Heaven immediately.” From a distance Alastor could see the executioner angel turn its head to the sky, its speech garbled and sounding like a foreign language to the demon. “Heed my orders, Michal, or I’ll put in a notice to decommission ya.” The angel threatened, glaring into the orb as the other angel groaned and flew off, presumably back to Heaven. “For Heaven’s sake, it’s like they gave me the rebellious ones.” The angel grumbled, returning back to a full view of Hell.

A lot of the demons in Hell thought that all angels were the same, disregarding the ones like Anthony who were deemed “true angels” in the eyes of humans. Which in a degree all angels are indeed angels, but ones like Anthony were authentic. Executioner angels, as Anthony explained, were created by higher ranked angels, his bosses, so that true angels wouldn’t need to endanger their lives needlessly. Though yes, executioners needed commanders and leaders, that’s where angels like Anthony come in, Heaven wasn’t sending their more important angels to die. It was really quite ingenious on Heaven’s part, which made Alastor wonder how many “true” angels were actually in Heaven.

At that moment the angel noticed his demonic friend’s presence, not that Alastor truly ever masked it around the other, causing the angel to smile. “So anyway, how was your year?”

It was the fundamental usual to their meetings that question. Always followed by somewhat awkward greetings, this question leading to their first of many conversations. “Quite splendidly! Had quite a couple good broadcasts this year that I’m sure will be remembered in infamously!”

At that the angel chuckled, gaze focusing on his orb. “That’s good! I guess anyways. Mine was kinda borin’. But I guess I’d prefer it to be borin’.”

“No one to smite this year?”

“No one given to _me_.” The angel clarified as he felt the demon stand behind him, just off to the side. “I don’t mind it though. It makes me feel weird when I smite a person to be damned to Hell. What if I kill them later on? It’s not a pleasant thought.”

“Someone else could always get them.” Alastor said truthfully. “Me, for instance.”

That made the angel laugh, shaking his head after. “I suppose that’s true.”

The two fell into silence then, Alastor watching as Anthony scanned over the rest of his battalion, watching as some wrapped up their quotas and immediately flew off, following orders without a second thought. The demon’s eyes then drifted to the set of wings near him. Out of all the times they met up Alastor barely felt curious about the wings. After all, all angels had them. But standing so close to them, as he’s done so a couple times now, started to raise his curiosity. They were just so brilliantly white. It was a very stark contrast to the rest of his world. He wondered if they felt like the feathers of birds while he was alive and if so would they be more like a hawk’s or eagles or like a dove’s or a pigeon? They certainly looked like a dove’s from a distance, but up close they were structured more like an eagle’s; large feathers interlaced together, strong enough to help a person glide and cut through the air.

The demon felt his head tilt to the side, eyes scanning the feathers of the wing closest to him. They were definitely something else. He had seen Husk’s own feathers and wings up close, of course, but they were nothing compared to Anthony’s. The sheer near perfection of them. The demon chalked that up to the other being an angel, the embodiment of perfection, or so people say, and didn’t really think much on it. But the longer he stared the more he kept wondering. Without so much of his own awareness, a hand went up, drifting just above the covert feathers.

Anthony felt the air above his wing shift and he jumped slightly, turning around to see the demon quickly realize what he was doing, the hand quickly ducking behind his back. The demon cleared his throat, a small, faint blush of embarrassment coming across his cheeks. “Apologies, Anthony. I don’t know what came over me.”

The angel blinked. He was just surprised to feel a shift around him, he wouldn’t have said anything if the demon touched him.

Wait. Anthony blinked again. He wouldn’t mind? The angel felt his mouth dry out, so he swallowed, a blush too coming across his features. “D-don’t worry ‘bout it.” The angel replied, turning back to face the orb. A beat passes. “I’m sure you’re curious about them…” Silence passed between them and when the demon didn’t respond the angel glanced back, seeing the demon staring intently at the wall furthest away from them. “I…” Anthony heard himself say; unsure of what really he wanted to say. “If ya want ya can… ya can touch them. T-the feathers I mean…”

“Oh, no.” The demon started, finally turning his head to face the other. That might have been a mistake as the blush deepened. “You needn’t think that I _want_ to. After all, it’s as you said I’m just curious. There's no need, I assure you.”

Anthony inhaled through his nose, turning his gaze to the orb once more. “Well… you can. I don’t… mind.”

More seconds of silence passed between them as the two thought wildly about what was currently happening. Anthony cleared his throat and shifted so that his body was more centered with the orb, thankful that he had something to distract him. The demon on the other hand found himself staring at the wings once more, the angel’s words echoing in his mind. Though yes, they considered each other as companions, when would he ever be able to touch an angel’s wings? He supposed he could just go out and kill one, have his fill then, but this was different. These were _Anthony_ ’ _s_ wings, and the angel did just say that he was fine with it.

Alastor cleared his throat as well. “In that case, excuse me…” He mumbled as he raised a hand back up, lingering over the feathers once more before gently landing on them. The wing shuddered under his touch and Anthony rolled his shoulders briefly, trying to relax more. Alastor waited a moment, taking the time to feel the softness of the feathers under his hand.

Soon, he began to pass his hand down the direction of the feathers, much like petting a cat, feeling how the coverts overlaid one another, the large primaries coming out towards the end tips of the wings. They certainly weren’t like the feathers of birds on Earth. These _felt_ different. They were soft, yes, but they felt like silk, even the ridges of the center of each individual feather was soft, like velvet, creating a sensation so different than what Alastor had ever felt. As the moments passed the demon started to get bolder eventually running his claws up into the feathers.

The wing shuddered again as he did so and Anthony felt his focus on the orb slipping away. He closed his eyes and held his breath, reeling at the good feeling of the claws scratching between his feathers. His legs tensed and shivers went down his spine and the demon combed his claws through the feathers. A part of Anthony wanted to tell the other to stop, the sensation, however good, was something he’d not quite experienced before. The angel felt all of his body tense, his wing getting the attention from the demon rising up against his own accord, pressing into the demon’s claws.

Alastor felt more than saw this shift up and without thinking became more aggressive, the claws now raking through the feathers, a constant cycle of combing up to rake down in a weird way of brushing the feathers. Anthony bit his lip, his body shivering now as all the nerves in his wing seemed to be ignited. Even the other wing, which was not getting this treatment, felt like it was on fire just from the pure feeling of the other one. The angel had to release his breath he had been holding, exhaling softly as the claws raked down once more.

The Radio Demon then shifted gears, pulling the claw up to reach up from the top edge of the wing, starting from the scapular wings and raking downward, making a right mess out of some of the feathers, displacing some from their neatly flat position to a puffed up state, much like when a bird shook their wings to dry them after a spring shower. The demon did this a couple times, lost in the overall sense of everything. Anthony felt his breath quicken, his heart hammering in his chest, nerves all but on haywire.

Until a moan escaped the angel’s mouth, loud and sensual, yet short and sweetly sounding.

The two stopped, frozen at the sound, as Anthony’s eyes popped open, a hand slapping over his mouth, blush redder and hotter. Alastor felt his hand shake, his blush almost matching Anthony’s as he stood there, hand still in the other’s feathers.

All of a sudden they both moved, Alastor stepping far away and Anthony standing, the orb and his clipboard disappearing simultaneously. “I-I-I should, uh… check on the battalion… in p-person.” The angel stuttered, hand still covering his mouth, muffling the words.

“A-ah, quite!” The demon simply responded, both hands stiffly at his sides, palms flat on his legs almost as if he were to touch _anything_ else they would fall off.

Anthony turned to walk to the doors before whipping around, looking at the back of the demon. “I-I mean of c-course if ya don’t mind. I mean we, uh…”

“No, no of course not!” The demon replied, back still turned to the angel. “After all it is work!”

“Yeah, work!” The other agreed, turning back on his heels, taking only a few steps before inhaling sharply and turning around again. “Oh, ah, shit, uh… c-clock tower n-next year?”

“Yes, yes, fine!”

“G-good. G-great.” The angel exhaled sharply. “I, uh… see ya then!” Alastor half turned, waving quickly with one hand before that hand slapped itself back onto his leg. With that the angel opened the doors himself, closing them behind him. “ _Jesus fuckin’ Christ, holy fuckin’ shit_.” The angel cursed softly to himself as he stumbled over the railing, cursing again at his klutziness before flying off the balcony towards the location of his battalion.

The Radio Demon on the other hand stood there in silence before stiffly moving to the bar, pouring a shot of whiskey before downing it quickly, hand that was buried in Anthony’s feathers shaking. He hissed and with his other hand grabbed that wrist, giving it a firm shake. “ _Stop that!_ ” He hissed to the shaking hand, willing it to stop, but after it kept going on he poured another shot and trudged over to the wingback chair before the fire, plopping into it heavily.

No thoughts passed through the demon’s head as he stared at the fire burning before him, eyes searching the flames for anything else to distract him from replaying what just happened again in his head.

The microphone spawned leaning against the chair, it blinking in muted shock. “Well…” it began, for once at a loss for words, “that was something else.” It concluded.

The Radio Demon growled and dragged a hand over his face. “Kill me a second time.” He could only say in response as he drank, his hand still shaking.

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**Author's Note:**

> They say that the next time those two met it was super awkward but they got over it by pretending it never happened, mutually. 
> 
> I thought of this randomly while in the shower... I about died from embarrassment myself just thinking about it.
> 
> All executioner angels are named after or based on names from Biblical figures. Their numbers represent how many of that named unit they are. (At least in this universe. I have no idea what the true creator has in mind for them.) Fun fact, 10,875 is apparently how many times God/Lord is stated in the King James’ Bible.
> 
> Also, these little ideas of mine just seem to keep popping off. The more I think about this particular pairing the more ideas I get. I'll keep writing these until I run out of ideas I think. It's something to do while I'm still sitting in quarantine.


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